"Lies, fear, and manipulation hide behind a smile… and Kieran is about to find out."
Adrien was awake.
He had been awake for a long time.
The big clock on the wall made soft ticking sounds, like it was counting something important. The curtains moved a little when the wind passed, and the shadows on the ceiling looked like monsters if he stared too long.
He sat up in bed, clutching his teddy bear tight.
Daddy said he would come tuck him in.
Daddy always said that.
But Daddy wasn't here.
The door opened slowly.
Adrien's heart jumped into his throat.
Lena stepped inside.
She wore a soft robe, pale blue, neat and clean. Her blonde hair was loose tonight, falling over her shoulders. Her glasses were on. She looked gentle.
That scared him more.
She smiled.
"Your dad went out," she said quietly. "Important work."
Adrien's fingers curled into the teddy's fur.
"When… when will he come back?" he asked.
Lena closed the door behind her.
The click sounded loud. Final.
"I don't know," she replied sweetly. "So it's just you and me tonight, Adrien."
The way she said his name made his chest feel funny. Like his heart skipped and tripped at the same time.
He pulled the blanket higher.
"I wanna wait for Daddy."
Lena walked closer, her steps slow. Calm. She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the blanket like she owned it.
"You worry too much," she said. "Good boys don't worry."
Adrien nodded quickly.
He wanted to be good.
She glanced at the teddy bear.
Her smile thinned just a little.
"Story time," she said. "Since your daddy isn't here."
Adrien swallowed.
"I… I don't want a story."
Lena tilted her head.
"That's not what I asked."
He nodded again.
"Yes, ma'am."
She stood and pointed at the floor.
"You won't be sleeping on the bed tonight."
Adrien blinked.
The floor was cold. Even with the carpet, it felt like ice through his socks.
"Why…?" he whispered.
"You were noisy today," Lena replied calmly. "And you spilled juice at dinner."
"I—I said sorry—"
She raised one finger.
Adrien stopped talking immediately.
"On the floor," she repeated. "Good boys listen."
He slid off the bed slowly, knees touching the cold ground. He hugged the teddy tighter as he sat down.
Lena watched him.
Then she said softly, "Leave the toy."
Adrien's eyes filled with tears.
"Please… Daddy gave me—"
She crouched in front of him, her face close now. Her smile never moved, but her eyes hardened.
"If you don't listen," she whispered, "bad things happen."
His breath shook.
He placed the teddy on the bed with shaking hands and curled up on the floor instead, arms wrapped around himself.
The room felt colder without it.
Lena climbed into the bed.
His bed.
She leaned against the pillows and picked up a book from the nightstand.
"Once upon a time," she began, her voice soft and smooth, "there was a little boy whose mother didn't want him anymore."
Adrien's chest tightened.
"She left him," Lena continued, flipping a page. "Because he was difficult. Because he cried too much. Because he was bad."
Adrien pressed his face into his knees.
"My mummy didn't leave me," he whispered.
Lena paused.
Then smiled wider.
"Oh?" she said. "Then why didn't she come back?"
His lips trembled.
"She loved me," he said, even though the words felt weak.
Lena kept reading.
"In the story," she said lightly, "the boy told secrets. And monsters don't like secrets."
Adrien's body started shaking.
"The monsters punished him," she went on. "They took away his warmth. His toys. His sleep."
Tears slid down his face silently.
He didn't cry loud.
He knew better.
His eyes grew heavy. The cold. The fear. The long day.
Sleep crept in even though he didn't want it.
His breathing slowed.
Lena noticed.
She closed the book.
Walked over.
Picked up the glass of water from the table.
Adrien was dreaming of his mummy when the water hit him.
Cold. Sharp.
He gasped, jerking awake with a small scream.
"Ah—!"
"Sleep is for good boys," Lena said calmly.
Water soaked his pajamas. His teeth chattered.
He looked up at her, terrified.
She leaned down, her voice low.
"If you ever tell your daddy," she whispered, "I'll hurt you."
His sob caught in his throat.
"And I'll hurt him too."
Adrien shook his head quickly.
"I won't," he whispered. "I promise."
Lena straightened.
Her smile returned.
"Good," she said. "Now sleep."
She turned off the light.
The room went dark.
Adrien lay on the cold floor, wet and shaking, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.
He thought about his mummy.
He thought about Daddy.
He didn't know if she really left him.
But he knew one thing for sure.
He was very, very scared.
And good boys didn't cry.
So he didn't.
...…
The next morning
Kieran sat in his study, jaw tight, fingers striking the keyboard harder than necessary. Lines of code, security footage, names, locations—none of it satisfying. None of it fast enough.
Then the scent shifted.
Soft. Sweet. Deliberate.
He looked up.
Lena stood at the doorway.
She had changed tactics.
A porcelain cup trembled slightly in her hands as she stepped inside, her silk nightdress clinging to her body in a way that was no accident. One side of the fabric—right over her chest—was darkened, soaked through. Tea. Or water. Or both.
The silk plastered itself to her curves, outlining the swell of her breasts, the faint peaks beneath the thin material impossible to miss.
"I made you tea, sir," she said softly.
Kieran's gaze dropped—briefly—to her chest.
Then it lifted.
And locked on her face.
No reaction.
No heat.
No interest.
Just a stare so empty it was worse than disgust.
Lena walked closer, every step measured. She leaned forward as she placed the cup on his desk, bending just enough to bare her cleavage, breath shallow, pulse loud in her ears.
Nothing.
Kieran didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even look down again.
Her smile faltered—just for half a second.
She straightened, turned as if to leave.
Then—
"Oh."
A pen slipped from the table and hit the floor.
Slowly—too slowly—Lena bent down, arching her back, showcasing every curve she had worked so hard to display. She picked up the pen like it was a performance, fingers dragging, movements exaggerated, confident.
She placed it back on the desk.
Silence.
Then the chair scraped.
Kieran rose.
He circled the desk like a predator. Stopped. Close enough she could hear his heartbeat in her chest if she listened.
Her lips curved in a triumphant smile. Finally…
But then his hand shot out. One swift motion. Her neck in his grip. Hard. Crushing. Air left her lungs, panic rising like fire in her throat.
Hands flew to his wrist. Fingers clawed. His strength? Unmatched. Immovable.
"I hired you for my son," he said simply. Voice low, lethal.
Her eyes widened. She gasped. He didn't flinch. Didn't raise an eyebrow. Didn't yell. Just… controlled.
"Not to spread yourself in my house like a w…re with a death wish," he continued, grip unyielding, voice almost a whisper—but it cut deeper than a shout.
She tried to twist, fight, escape. He tightened slightly. Enough to blur her vision. Enough to terrorize her into silence.
"You will never try this again."
Pause.
"Not with me."
"Not in this house."
"Not where my child sleeps."
Her knees nearly buckled. Sweat prickled her spine. He was calm. Too calm.
"If you forget that," he said finally, deadly quiet, "they won't find enough of you to bury."
Then, as suddenly as it began, he let go.
She collapsed against the wall, gasping. Heart racing. Fear carved deep lines into her stomach.
Kieran stepped back, adjusting his cuff. Unbothered. Untouched. Untempered.
"You think you're clever," he said softly, dangerous, "but women like you always forget one thing."
Her gaze shot up. Trembling.
"I don't need to want you…"
A pause. His shadow fell over her.
"…to destroy you."
He turned. Cold. Deadly. Final.
"Get out of my sight."